As the title suggests, this is basically a story of events that take place just before the anime. Well, I say just…but because it's Suzu-centric, it's going to span at least a century. I think some of it will possibly be AU, since I made all of this up. But the idea is that it could fit in with the anime timeline. Hopefully it could fit with the manga, but I haven't read it so I cannot be sure.

The paragraphs in italics are first-person Suzu, a monologue of sorts. Basically, if this was an anime episode, then those paragraphs would be her voice-over while various scenes were playing. Hopefully that makes sense.

DISCLAIMER: Although I did a little bit of research to make Suzu's 'voice' seem more authentic , this is not intended to be an account of history , and so it may be historically inaccurate in some places , if not everywhere. I take full responsibilities for these inaccuracies.

I hope you enjoy reading this!

Her name was Suzu Shuuto, his name was Hiroshi Kaminaga. She was a year older than him, and their birthdays were a day apart. They grew up close friends, as their parents worked together, making and selling ceremonial kimonos. Their childhood took place in a time of change, where education became compulsory and the class system more flexible. He was strong and handsome, she was clever and beautiful. Everybody expected that when they grew up, they would marry. The alliance would benefit both families, but the two were close enough for romance to blossom, too.

But nobody expected that she would remain forever young.

It was the turn of the century when people noticed. They were 21, but Suzu looked exactly the same as she did when she was 15. Tall for her age back then, she was now noticeably shorter. Hiroshi towered over her despite being younger, and while this may have been expected because of their gender differences, other girls her age were also taller. The other girls were also more developed in other ways, and this escaped no-one's attention.

Whispers sped through the community, but were taken with a pinch of salt. The Shuuto females were generally petite. Perhaps Suzu Shuuto was just a late bloomer. Perhaps.

But two years passed, and she looked exactly the same. Hiroshi met another girl, who was pretty and well-connected and definitely 22 years old, and so he grew tired of waiting. The whispers became louder, larger, more twisted. Then, they grew violent.

Soon after that, Suzu Shuuto disappeared.

…

To this day I do not know if the threats I heard ever had anything to them. All I knew back then is that I was scared and that I did not want to die. At least, I did not want to die young. I wanted to grow up and grow old. Just like anyone else would. Back then, I still believed that that was an actual possibility.

…

Once she was far enough away, the first thing she did was change her clothes, and stuff her old ones into the bag she had grabbed in a hurry. Then, she released her hair from its bow and found some soot to darken it. She could not look like her old self. She knew that much. When her hair was suitably black and as different from appearance as she could make it, she wandered out, thinking of a name for herself.

Erika? Mako? Midori? Izumi? Kayano? Oh, I know. Yuki.

It was a popular name; for both males and females, so she was satisfied that it would keep her safe, for now.

And a family name? I need a family name…Suzuki? Yes, that will have to do. Yuki Suzuki.

As she navigated the unfamiliar town and tried not to get looked at, she quietly repeated the name in her head, tried to make it hers.

My name is Yuki Suzuki. My name is Yuki Suzuki.

She continued repeating it silently, almost as a mantra, until she happened upon a large house. For some reason, her intuition said that this was a place she would find shelter at; if not directions to a place she could work. Well off she may have been before, but she knew how to pull her weight. She had no choice, anyway, the way things were.

She looked at the name at the front of the house. Hanabusa. The name meant nothing in particular to her. She wondered, for a moment, if she would like them. Then, she went to the door and knocked. While she waited for someone to answer, she practised introducing herself aloud.

"Hello, my name is Yuki Suzuki."

It was the first of many names she would take in an effort to keep herself alive.

…

For the next few years or so, she wandered from town to town, looking for work and changing names with every new place she went to. The work was menial, and she was not always treated with respect, but she survived, and got money and food that would allow her to keep surviving. The contents of her bag expanded a little with each new identity, but she refused to let go of her old clothes, from her old life. For her , these things were the physical equivalent of hope.

…

When war broke out the first time, she did not flee. Instead, she watched things from her viewpoint as a 'homeless' person who went by the name of Rin. Somehow, she came out of the other side with only a few injuries. When the Second World War broke out, she headed to the forests that were in the mountains. Higher, higher, higher.

When she found a high enough clearing, she began to build herself a little hut. But for all the smarts she'd picked up, the hut fell apart soon after. So she tried again. And again. And eventually, she got it right.

Sitting in her hut, she examined her scars. By now, she should have been in her 40s or 50s –she was already losing track- but she looked no older than 16. If she ended up surviving another few decades , all the scars she had now would disappear , the same way scars she had acquired back then were now gone. She wondered how long it would take before she had scars she could show to others, how long it would take before she was able to grow, like normal people did.

She had a lot of time on her hands-she wasn't entirely sure how long, for time took on a new meaning when alone-and so she spent her time teaching herself. How to hunt, what plants were dangerous and what plants were not. She wrote long, meandering poems and letters that nobody else would see, to make sure that she did not lose this ability. She started doing exercises to remain limber. Occasionally, a soldier would stumble upon her humble abode, half-delirious with fear and illness. For some reason or another, they all reminded her of Hiroshi, so she would tend to them and send them on their way as soon as possible. She did not want to be discovered by anything worse than these soldiers. She did not give them a name, nor did she let them ask her for one. She had no need for names in this place.

But because they all reminded her of Hiroshi, she would say a prayer for them after she had pushed them out and away.

…

Eventually , there came a period when no-one stumbled past her hut for a very ,very long time , and she no longer heard planes from somewhere above her. So, curiously, she packed up and went back down the mountains.

Sure enough, the war had ended-about three years prior. Unsure what to do with herself, she decided to head back to her hometown. Despite not knowing what she looked like, she was confident that she would not be recognised. Besides, by now, anyone who had known her as her old self would either be very old or dead.

And she was correct. For amongst those who were now dead, Hiroshi Kaminaga was one of them.

…

And so, you left me in more ways than one.

The thought made her want to cry. But for some reason, she felt motivated to attend his funeral. As herself, rather than one of the many identities she had constructed for herself. So she hid herself away, and washed away her grime, before dressing in clothes that she never thought she would wear again. Then , she searched through her pack for a pocket-watch engraved with the characters 'Kenmochi ' that she had acquired from a grateful soldier. There was nothing particularly special about the pocket-watch that would require her to bring it to the funeral , but she felt that if she was gripping something so undeniably solid , she would not break apart at the seams. With the aid of a puddle, she was satisfied that she looked like herself once she was ready , and she smiled despite herself.

And so, she attended the funeral. And cried, because he had meant so much to her, even if in the end he did not have the courage to stand by her.

She left as soon as it was over, as she was merely on the fringe of things. But the whispers , sad ones this time , followed her.

"Did you see her?"

"Who?"

"That girl, the one who was just there, wearing old fashioned clothes. "

"Oh, the young looking one? The one who just left?"

"Yes. Do you know who that was?"

"That looked like the Shuuto girl to me."

"The Shuuto girl?"

"Oh, you weren't born then, were you? Suzu Shuuto, her name was. Funny little thing, was 23 years old but didn't look much older than a child. Highly suspicious. And then she just vanished, in the middle of the night one day in knows what happened to her. The family said nothing. "

"So was that her ghost, Oba-San? Did Oji-san know her then?"

"It could be, it could be. And yes, he did. They say that she was her first love. "

And so it went.

First love, huh? Even as she left the town and began the mental process of becoming Aimi Takanashi, the words still got to her.

…

I cannot say for sure that it was his funeral that made me do this, but it was around that time that I made myself a promise. That promise was to keep an eye on Hiroshi's family from afar. For as many generations as I could until the gods saw fit to allow me to progress through life the way he did, the way all the generations of his family would. So every so often, I made a point of returning, and discreetly tracking them down. As the world continued to change and technology improved, they spread out, but it was a guarantee that a Kaminaga would still be there whenever I came by. But never again did I go there as Suzu Shuuto.

…

The world around her progressed slowly. The changes made it both easier for her to hide herself and harder to do so. The paperwork needed to prove she was who she claimed to be at the time went from non-existent to bulky. But because she had no choice, she conformed, and quickly learnt the art of forgery.

One day in the mid-60's, it occurred to her that she would need to go to school. She had plenty of knowledge as a result of living so long, but jobs were starting to look for actual, proper qualifications. There was no point in trying for a university, for she would never be regarded an adult, but she could try for a high school. And so she went around, making use of a few acquaintances, and faked the paperwork. She also took on more minimum-wage jobs at one time than she had ever done before, just to get enough money to get herself through the school.

The day she was finally accepted, she was in her bedsit and packing up, ready to move someplace else and become someone else. She stared at the letter, and sighed. It looked as if she would be staying for a while longer.

…

She was such a cliché. A complete, utter cliché. Well, apart from the small detail of being a teenage pensioner rather than an actual teenager. The unwanted attention of men was not something she was unfamiliar with. She had seen girls of 'her age' sell themselves to men such as these just to survive, and had vowed not to do the same. And yet, what was she doing now?

After her attempt at being a high schooler went south, she had rushed out of that town, hoping to never see anyone there again. It was another close shave, and her secret had been close to being revealed.

Escape was successful, but she had no money. And for some reason, although she cleaned up and made herself presentable, she couldn't get anyone to work for her. So she spent many nights on the street, and although rough conditions were nothing new, she was tired of it, and wanted to have a roof over her head. So, she ended up taking the clichéd way out.

And now she regretted it , for she was definitely pregnant. She was familiar enough with the workings of her body to know this for sure. And now, she did not know what to do.

The first thing she did was stop her current career. Luckily for her, she had been working for herself only, and so it was easier to walk away. The one smart aspect of her stupid decisions. She used her money to rent out a relatively clean flat. She visited the doctor to get information about her options, remaining meek under his disapproving gaze, and afterwards she retreated to her new home and wept.

…

"If I could keep you, your name would be Akira." She told her son as she hurried through the night. She knew that she was not able to take care of a baby, for reasons both practical and social, but in the end, she couldn't get rid of it, and soon it became a him. He was dark haired and dark eyed, and looked nothing like her. This made her happy, for it meant that he had a chance of being normal.

But she would never know if that chance would get realised, for she could not keep him. Which was why she was sneaking around despite feeling weak and tired; trying to find the house of a couple she had overheard talking about how much they wanted a child. She felt they would be the best match for this child of hers.

When she found the house, she didn't hesitate as she left him on the doorstep, wrapped in her old kimono. A poor substitute for her own presence, but it was all she could give. As she backed away, as if understanding what was happening, the baby began to cry. Loudly.

She wanted to go back. She really did. But she couldn't. So she put her hands to her mouth and ran faster, and sobbed silently the whole way back.

…

I stayed in that particular area for a couple of months longer. I found out that the couple did indeed take him in, and that they called him Ataru. I never did catch the surname of the couple-it might have been Mi-something, but I remain unsure. I do not think I tried too hard to find out. I didn't really have the right to.

The day I forced myself to leave, I found myself crying at the thought of leaving my son, even though I could never call him mine. That was the last time I cried.

…

She had not expected to find someone like her. But when she quietly entered the florists that summers day and began her enquiry in a hesitant voice, the blue-eyed woman at the counter stared at her for a while, then grinned, and came around to hug her.

"Another one! Never thought I'd see the day. Honey, you're already hired. "

"Erm…" She had no idea what she was talking about.

"Come around the back, and I'll explain. "

She followed, obediently, and found herself in a kitchen. The woman went to the sink, and began washing her face. She stood there, and watched, dumbstruck, as make up went down the drain and the face of a teenager was revealed.

"Most women use make-up to disguise their old age. Nobody would ever dream that I was wearing make up to disguise my youth. I'm Yukiko Ueno. I was born in 1920, so I should be 60 by now. What about you?"

"I...I'm Komori Yasutani." If Yukiko knew that wasn't her real name, she didn't twig. "I…I cannot actually remember what date I was born in anymore, but it was before 1900…"

"Woah! A Highlander that's older than me?!Honey, you need to stick around for a while, Okay?"

"Erm. Highlander?"

"Our bodies, the way they age, or rather, the way they don't age. It's a disease, a disease of our body cells, to be exact. It's called Highlander Syndrome. Not many know about it. Everyone here just thinks I am an eccentric little florist. Speaking of which, get that apron on, and I'll explain things for you between customers. "

She was able to stay there as Komori Yasutani for an entire 15 years without having to change her identity and move away. Yukiko became her best friend. She told her more about the disease they shared , and gave her tips on how best to disguise herself if need be , and little tricks for identifying others like her. She was even able to meet a few others, and it seemed as if she had found a place to belong.

Then, one day, a fire ripped through the building unexpectedly. She was with Yukiko and three other Highlanders. One of the Highlanders had brought her adult nephew and his girlfriend with her, and as soon as the fire broke out, this Highlander pushed them away.

"Take her and run, Atsushi!" She commanded, coughing. They stumbled around, but couldn't find the exit , so she took them both by the hand and led them out.

As soon as they were safe, she turned to get Yukiko and the others. But by then, it was too late.

"No…"

"It's OK, Komori-san." Atsushi said. "None of us could have done a thing. "

"At least you saved us. I'm really grateful. But I'm guessing now you'll have to go elsewhere?" his girlfriend asked. She nodded in response.

"But I will stay, to get things sorted for the funeral. Then, I guess I will have to move on. "

"I see." They both looked sad. "We won't forget you though! Infact, we'll name our first kid after you."

This made her panic, for her name was not her own.

"No…please don't."

Atsushi's girlfriend saw the panic in her eyes and said "At least choose a name then. Any name. "

She thought about this.

"What about…Haruka? No, no. Haruki. Yes , I choose the name Haruki. How does that sound?"

Atsushi grinned.

"Haruki Sagae. I like that."

She tried to imagine this child. Would he or she have Atsushi's red hair, his girlfriend's gold-orange eyes? Atsushi seemed to realise that she was thinking this, for he grinned and said.

"Well, hopefully, sometime in the future, when you are able to be yourself again, we'll meet each other. And then you can meet Haruki. "

"I would like that. I really, really would like that."

…

Until Yukiko , I had felt somewhat ashamed to be the way I had been(and still am). She changed all of that. And then to encounter a normal person who showed so much understanding , that made me feel that perhaps being the way I was wasn't actually such a bad thing. So I suppose I could have done what Yukiko did and dropped the pretences ,using makeup to suggest typical aging , and live as myself for as long as it took for me to be allowed to be normal , but ultimately , I was a child of my times. Until something drastic happened , I did not feel as if that would be safe. And so I continued the way I had been.

…

The next time she checked on the Kaminaga family, she was met with the news that the youngest Kaminaga was orphaned, still only a baby. As she was going through another homeless spell , she hid in the shadows , and eavesdropped on anyone who could know the baby's whereabouts. Eventually , she discovered that the baby was a girl called Kouko , and that she was at an orphanage run by nuns. She knew only a few things about Christianity , but she didn't feel that Kouko being brought up that way would be bad. Unfortunately , she could only watch the orphanage from afar , so that is what she did for a few months.

During that time , she actually saw Kouko a few times , always with a member of staff and other children. Kouko was a serious looking child , solemn faced and looking as if she'd need glasses when older. Her eyes , although blue , were almost exactly like Hiroshi's eyes , and the lustre of her hair marked her out as a Kaminaga. She seemed happy , and as she could not provide for her , she had to be satisfied with that. Hopefully , one day , when she was older , they would find each other , and she would be able to tell Kouko all about her family.

…

Her interest in bombs stemmed from a temporary job at a company that sold fireworks for parties. It was not a job that lasted, as the company went bankrupt very quickly, but the fascination with the way explosives could result in both beauty and destruction remained.

She had found a disused cottage in the middle of a field soon after the company went bankrupt , and this was where she lived. She called herself Rika , and was almost as happy as she had been when she had been living namelessly in the mountain forests on the other side of the country. It was here she experimented and refined her bomb-making abilities.

Occasionally , she went into town to buy supplies , and it was these excursions that allowed her to chance upon the person who had burned down Yukiko's shop . The person had been caught , but given a lenient sentence for some reason , and now he was free.

This enraged her to the point that she began to follow his habits carefully , and came into town more often. After a while , she had his routine memorised , and so she spent a week building a very intricate bomb. She did not sleep , and ate very occasionally , until it was completed. Then , she went into town , waited for a suitable moment , and put the bomb into his car.

His death was on the third page of the newspaper the next day.

…

That was the first time I killed someone. I had seen death in many forms , but never initiated it. I do not consider myself a cruel person , but knowing that I could be the difference between life-and-death filled me with a sense of…control. Killing was not really something I wanted to make a thing out of , but at that point I decided that if it could get me what I wanted , then I would not hesitate. But after killing Yukiko's killer , I decided to put my skills away , and put some money together to work towards my goal. The money would be needed , after all.

…

The little girl still haunted her. That sweet , soft-voiced , silver haired girl . The one who had been sold by her own mother to men who did unspeakable things to her. When she had spotted her , she had rushed to a payphone and alerted the authorities. But was it enough? She had hidden , and seen the girl being led out of the building , but although she was safe now , her grey-purple eyes were dead.

Two months on , even though she had an apartment far away from where the little girl had been kept , she was still haunted.

She was thinking about the little girl one day as she was working through a particularly quiet day at the ice-cream stall in the park. Then , she noticed three people wandering through the park. Two men , and a little girl. They approached her.

"Do you want an ice-cream , Isuke?" The blond man asked. The little girl , who had pink hair that fell to her shoulders in loose ringlets , nodded , wide-eyed. The blond man bent down to pick her up , so she could see the list of ice-creams they had available. When he did , she could see that the girl was thin , and rather pale. Her eyes were bright , but it was a different type of brightness. One that was just returning after the child had been forcibly dulled for so long. An uninhibited yet hesitant brightness. Much like the brightness that she hoped would eventually return to the eyes of the silver-haired girl .

"Strawberry!" Isuke eventually said. "Can I have strawberry, Mama?" She raised an eyebrow at the man being addressed as 'Mama', but figured there was a reason.

"One strawberry ice-cream, coming right up! That'll be one-fifty , okay?" she said. She prepared it quickly, then looked around the small stall. They were definitely here somewhere…yes! She picked up two chocolate flakes and a strawberry-shaped candy and stuck them in the ice-cream before handing it to Isuke.

"Thank You!" she said, her eyes full of wonder. The other man , who was dark-haired , went to pay.

"The toppings cost extra, right?"

"They're on the house." She told them. All three of them looked at her.

"They're on the house," she repeated. "Just remain happy , okay , Isuke-Chan? It is no less than you deserve."

Isuke nodded, busy eating her ice-cream. Her fathers (?) exchanged a look, and the blond man walked away with Isuke , telling her that 'Papa will join us in a moment.'

'Papa' gave her a look.

"You must be psychic or something. " He told her. This made her laugh.

"Not really. I'm just a lot older than I look, and, well, I recognise a little survivor when I see one. You've done good, taking her in. I hope you have the best life together, I really do. "

"It was actually Eisuke who found her…but thank you. Hearing that means a lot. " he smiled at her gratefully.

"You are welcome. Have a good day!"

"You too, miss. You too."

When she went to sleep that night, she felt just a little lighter, and a little less guilty.

…

It was by chance that she heard about the Black Class at Myoujou Academy. And not just the information the general public were privy to. She had been living a good life for a while, but still found herself hiding on the fringes of things. And so she heard the things that not everyone knew.

Every member of the Black Class would be an assassin, save for one, and that one would be would be their target. Whoever killed the target would have their deepest wish granted.

She had a deep wish. And she also had experience with death.

With caution, she applied, and asked all the right questions. Eventually, she found that she had been successful , and happily spent a day shopping for the perfect outfit.

She was trying on these clothes in her apartment when the phone rang. The person at the other end was from Myoujou, and was calling to confirm her place in the Black Class. In particular, the details that only certain members of staff would know. She answered all the questions calmly and politely, concealing her excitement all the while. Eventually, the person got to the end of her questions.

"Okay , just one last question. I don't think I've written down your name. Could you repeat it for me , please?"

"Oh, my name? That would be Suzu. Suzu Shuuto. "

You may have noticed that I've managed to connect Suzu to quite a few other characters. Some obviously so, and some not so . How many connections did you spot?

I have a few other ideas for one-shots for Akuma no Riddle that I want to write , so look out for those. In the meantime , please leave feedback! ^^